Lore of Ilrom
by AIR1
Summary: To the south of Middle Earth lies another continent, one that is much smaller and older...and there is evil there that has just awoken. This story is technically original, but very much inspired by Tolkien's LOTR. Please, read and enjoy!
1. Prologue

Lore of Ilrom  
  
Author's note *IMPORTANT*: This story is original but inspired by Tolkien! If you're interested in an original fantasy adventure, then this is your story. Otherwise, there many other great LOTR stories on this site! This story is long, and if I haven't uploaded all of the chapters, you can read the entire story on fictionpress; just email me for the link.  
  
Please, read and enjoy!  
  
.  
  
Prologue  
  
The surface of the world is a haven of life, a vast ground where imagination seeds creation. Those who dwell on the surface enjoy the abundance of warm sunlight and fresh air, and the pleasure of delicious food and clean water. The people have been blessed with freedom, beauty, and intelligence, and it seems that they needn't worry about any dangers beyond the realm of their own overheated disputes.  
  
This Vast World is sickly rich in more ways than one. The land is a thriving, prosperous sanctuary of agricultural and economical successes. The towns are well settled, and the wealth of the land springs the wealth of the people.  
  
The land itself is presented in gorgeous variation. The beautiful grasslands are glazed in a bright, emerald green, which is only defeated by the deep, blue sky above. The farmers keep busy in their vast fields, whose crops are of a healthy golden-brown, while the creatures in the wild hunt and play in the shade of the tropical forests and the damp jungles. And when winter comes, the open fields are blanketed in a layer of blinding, white snow. There are few swamps, and patches of rubble and scorched earth can be found nowhere, for though the world is well aged, it has not seen the likes of war, struggle, or oppression for thousands of years.  
  
All beings of the Earth are, for their own reasons, drawn to this utopian paradise; those above the surface, and even, those below. For beneath the layers of earth and rock, though little of it is known to those on the surface, there exists another world, a darker, Compact World, whose rivers flow not with the water of the Vast World above, but rather with the thick, fiery, magma of the Earth's core.  
  
This blacker world below is a haven of darkness, a dwelling for restless evil, where merciless demons and pitiless nightmares lurk in the shadows of deep-seated dungeons. These ancient evils do not sleep or play, rather they plot and scheme, for they too desire to walk the face of the Earth. But they do not seek beauty or light, and their intentions on the surface are of a much darker kind; to rise and roam freely, ensuing chaos and destruction; to conquer the Vast World, and usher an era of darkness.  
  
Where earth quakes and mountains form, evil can surface. . .and it will. 


	2. Part 1: Chapters 1 and 2

Author's note: There is a map of the world where this story takes place but I cannot post it on this site, so if you want to see it, you can email me, and ill be glad to send it to you!  
  
Part I  
  
The Shadow  
  
Deep in the fiery caverns of Mount Sirus, in the land of Ilrom, there was born a legend.  
  
Once, on a cold and gloomy night,  
  
The owls grew silent, for not all was right.  
  
The land on the surface began to tremble and shake,  
  
As the cracks in the world began to tremor and quake.  
  
The people confused and frightened, they soon took to panic,  
  
And the lords of the darkness were more than ecstatic.  
  
But as fast as the quaking of the earth had begun,  
  
It suddenly stopped at the dawn of the sun.  
  
The next day was normal and all the people worked,  
  
For little did they know that a new evil lurked.  
  
Something had changed in the caverns of Mount Sirus,  
  
A change ere recorded on scrolls of papyrus.  
  
There was a sudden presence in the mountain, of a nature  
  
unknown,  
  
Evil had been erupted into the caverns of stone.  
  
Over five hundred years passed quietly in Ilrom, and no one dared to go near the caverns, for the dark, cold presence was felt in the surrounding territories, and all who so much as gazed in its direction had an instant crescendo of fear that disappeared as quick as it came. The citizens of the land stayed away from Mount Sirus, and abandoned Ilrom . . .but evil possesses a deadly patience.  
  
-----  
  
Far off to the west, a quarter day by horse, in the Bella Crescent, was a small village, the birthplace of Aaron Gelder. He was the son of Pyaren, a farmer, and an only child. He was a young, astute boy, and had just recently celebrated his twenty-third birthday with his father and his two closest friends.  
  
He woke early one morning- as he did every morning- to the bright sunlight and the stabbing, itchy straw of his bed. He lived in the next largest room of the large, stone house, smaller than only his father's. He slowly stepped out of his room and continued down the dark, windowless hall, past his father's wooden door and into the dining room.  
  
"Good morning, my boy! Have some breakfast." Pyaren was seated at the small, round table, eating, and he had already set a place for Aaron to sit. Upon the plate before the empty chair, there was steam rising from some strange dish Pyaren had prepared. Aaron sat, and apprehensively stared at the food, wondering if it was edible.  
  
His father looked over at him, "Eat your food, son!"  
  
"I will, but I wonder. Why is it purple?"  
  
"I apologize. I am not the cook your mother was!"  
  
"Indeed, but why is it purple?" He prodded, smiling.  
  
Pyaren looked at him with eyes of malice. "Purple crops make purple food!"  
  
"Well, if I had some help in the fields," cried Aaron, "perhaps I could harvest the crops before they turn into such!"  
  
"I haven't had time since your mother died. You know that, Aaron."  
  
Aaron was suddenly ashamed, and he surrendered. "I am sorry." He took one bite of the purple produce. He chewed slowly, and a look of disgust crept onto his face. He placed his fork gently onto the table. "Well, that was good! I must be getting to the fields now!"  
  
"Oh, come now! It's not that bad. Is it?"  
  
"Farewell, father!" Aaron insisted. Refreshed and lively, he hurried outside to begin his work in the fields. He was feeling quite well that morning, for the excitement of his birthday party still flowed in his blood, invigorating him, and he exerted his energy in the freedom of the lonely fields, meaning he raced his shadow through the endless rows of crops. After some time at this, he suddenly came to the realization that he had forgotten to work, and he promptly seized his hoe and forced himself into a mode of toil.  
  
After lunch, he returned to the fields and continued working, though not as hard, for he always made sure to leave only light work for the afternoon. He allowed himself to act wild again, and giddily he worked until the sky grew dark.  
  
But that evening, underneath the twilight, as he was coming in from the fields for supper, Aaron was startled suddenly by a loud, thundering roar. He turned toward the source of the sound, and discovered the steep, shadowed slopes of the dark mountain of Ilrom. A sudden stiff breeze came, blowing back his thick, dark-brown hair, and chilling him with fright. But the fear did not dissipate as it usually did; instead it intensified and spread to every limb of his body, until he could not move. And Aaron, paralyzed and traumatized, suddenly heard a soft whisper from afar. It was so subtle, he almost missed it. It uttered only one word, a word he did not understand: Seer.  
  
The breeze halted, feeling returned to Aaron's body, and he turned toward his house and went in for supper. He did not say a word of what happened to his father.  
  
----- 


	3. Part 1: Chapters 3 and 4

The next morning, Aaron tried to think little of the incident in the fields, and he looked forward to meeting with his friends that afternoon, in the walled village of Sarod. They met in an old tavern by the gate of the town every other day, where they drank and amused themselves.  
  
When the sun stood highest, Aaron finished his work and bid his father farewell. He walked down the banks of the Tulsa River, and he crossed when he came to the fork of the rivers, Batten and Tulsa. He continued south by horse and wagon, following the river to Sarod. Upon reaching the gate of the village, he paid the driver with two silver pieces. The driver acknowledged him with a smile, and then set the horse back into a trot in search of more customers. Aaron walked up to the village gate, which was large and black, and forged out of iron. It was only closed at night, however, and he passed through without any questioning by the gatekeeper.  
  
Sarod was a ruddy, old town, made up of mostly taverns and inns. The drunks wandered the roads, stumbling, and everyone else moved in random directions, slowly, as if they had nowhere to be. It was not the friendliest environment, but goods were inexpensive, and that is what drew Aaron and his friends there so often.  
  
The tavern was only half full, because it was still early, and it didn't take long for Aaron to locate his friends. His two dearest friends, Darren Banks and Ryan Carmel of Anchorage, were waiting for him at a table in the back corner of the tavern.  
  
When Aaron approached, Darren inquired, "Where have you been, Aaron? We've been waiting here quite a while."  
  
"Sorry, I was delayed at the river crossing. An old ferryman had to take me, because the bridge collapsed."  
  
"Again?" Ryan spoke. "That's the third time this month!"  
  
"Well, what do you expect from something built by Sarod peasants?!" A man at the counter, mug in hand, turned and glared at Darren. Darren nervously stuttered, "N-no! Genius engineers of Sarod, who simply made an unfortunate error." Then he chuckled, and the man decided to ignore Darren, and simply went on drinking his ale. "Right!"  
  
Aaron, staring down at the table, suddenly said, "Do you ever wonder what's inside the caverns of Mount Sirus?" His question was alarming to his friends, who had never heard him speak so seriously, and yet so softly as if he were trying to hide any trace of tension in his voice.  
  
"I'll tell you what's in there," said Darren. "Fire!" He hissed the word slowly and intensely, trying to spook but humor his friend. Aaron was not humored, though.  
  
Ryan spoke uneasily. "That mountain has not been approached in hundreds of years. I hear that anyone who came close became suddenly terrified when they reached the base of the mountain and turned back." Then he paused and his eyes narrowed. "And I heard the place is infested with dragons!" He uttered fearfully.  
  
Darren laughed. "None-sense! There hasn't been a dragon around in over a thousand years. There is only fire in the mountain, and I'll put that to a bet!"  
  
"I'll bet against you, but can you prove any of what you say?"  
  
"Yes I can, Ryan. Let's go there, now!" Darren smiled in excitement.  
  
"It's a quarter day by horse!" Protested Ryan. "And it's far too dangerous."  
  
"Dangerous? What's an adventure without danger!" He retorted. "Aside from boring!"  
  
"That's not what you said about our trip in the Batten River!" Ryan exclaimed.  
  
"There was great danger there! We were caught in the rapids!" Answered Darren.  
  
"Spare me!" Ryan pushed. "You were as happy as child even when the river was calm."  
  
There was a brief silence, and Ryan could sense that Darren was annoyed. Then Darren spoke slowly and clearly, making obvious his irritation. "There is no danger in Mount Sirus, because there are no dragons. It's ridiculous to think so!"  
  
"And what if you're wrong?"  
  
"Should we find peril, we'll flee! And you will have won the bet!"  
  
"Fine, but it is a quarter day by horse."  
  
"Tomorrow then! We'll leave early, and I'll bring a horse. We'll ride by- "  
  
"-I don't think that's a wise idea. There's a reason no one's approached the mountain in hundreds of years; something else lurks there." There was trouble in Aaron's eyes that his friends did not see.  
  
"Come to your senses, Aaron, you're speaking foolishly. It's only a mountain."  
  
There was a long pause and not a word was spoken. Darren looked anxiously into the eyes of Aaron. Realizing that the dark threat he feared so greatly was not a valuable argument against his friends, Aaron summoned a more reasonable response.  
  
"And what if Ryan is right?"  
  
"Oh, don't force me to say it again, Aaron!"  
  
Aaron paused again, as he realized that he would not be successful. Finally, he sighed and surrendered. "Fine. We'll meet here?"  
  
"At the village gate." Aaron looked down at the table and slowly nodded.  
  
-----  
  
Aaron slept little that night, for he was frightened and apprehensive. He woke suddenly the next morning covered in sweat. He bathed, but it didn't calm his mind. It was still dark when he went out to the fields, and when he finished his work, his father was just getting up.  
  
"I've finished my chores, and I'll be traveling with my friends today." He told him.  
  
"You woke up early for that? It must be important!"  
  
"It is not. It is just a silly trip, but it will take some time. I shall return before supper."  
  
"Very well! Take care, my son."  
  
"Farewell, father."  
  
----- 


	4. Part 1: Chapter 5

Aaron tried to calm himself by hearing his own words in his head; it is just a silly trip. But he knew they weren't true, and fear was burning his mind.  
  
Aaron met his two best friends at the gate to Sarod not long after sunrise, and Darren, as promised, had a horse with him. By the advice of Ryan's father, they rode north along the Tulsa River, easily bypassing the Isil Mountains, and past the abandoned territory of Isilius, to the Isil Forest. The forest provided a direct route to Ilrom, where they wouldn't have to pass through the rough, barren, wasteland and around Lake Detore.  
  
The Isil forest was not unsightly. The edges of the path were lined with eighty-foot oaks, and rays of sunlight trickled through the leaves, lighting the trail. But the deeper they moved into the forest, the worse Aaron felt, and he was frightened for a reason he could not fathom. His alert eyes were focused straight ahead, on the dirt trail that lay before them, which seemed to lead to a dead end after every turn as it twisted and winded around the slopes of the forest. The endless road grew narrower and darker as the ride continued. Very little light now shone through the trees, and Aaron's eyelids became heavy as the boring scenery seemed not to change. The same trees kept passing by, leaving the trail caught in shadow, and around each bend was the same dark path leading nowhere but to another bend. Aaron's eyelids slowly came together, and his vision was reduced to a narrow slit of lit of light that slipped through the small crack left between them.  
  
As they rounded the next bend, Aaron's eyes were open again, for he noticed that something was different at the end of this path. There was not another bend, rather a round, empty blackness, blocking everything including the light from passing. Aaron stared in wonder, and as the darkness came closer, a more complicated shape emerged.  
  
The figure was tall but stocky, and at its top it grew narrow and sharp. Suddenly, to Aaron's awful astonishment, it moved. And it was then that he realized that this was the silhouette of a man, a tall man, and in his hand he held a staff. "Look!" He hissed, but no one answered. Curious, he turned and discovered that he was riding alone on the horse. The fear in Aaron's heart was suddenly aroused, and it began pumping into his veins. 'Where have they gone?' He thought in horror.  
  
He searched around him in panic for an answer but found nothing but passing trees and their shadows.  
  
The horse continued galloping toward the dark figure, and when Aaron turned and saw it, he became stricken with a terror he had never felt before. At the top end of the staff, gleaming in the only ray of light yielded by the trees, a long, metal blade protruded, sharp and deadly. And its wielder, as Aaron could now see, wore a dark, black robe, whose hood hid his face in shadow.  
  
As the horse drew closer, and was nearly upon the dark, mysterious man, another ray of light burst through the trees, and revealed the man's face.  
  
Aaron screamed, and without hesitating, he jumped from the horse.  
  
----- 


	5. Part 1: Chapters 6, 7, and 8

"Aaron. Aaron! Wake up!" Something was pushing on Aaron's back, and when he opened his eyes, he was still on the horse with Darren in front holding the reigns, and Ryan in back nudging him with his arm. The horse was in a slow trot, and the path was well lit by rays of light, which trickled through the leaves of the trees.  
  
Half awake, speaking as though he were in a drunken stupor, Aaron slurred out the words, "Where were you?" Darren looked back at him in extreme puzzlement. Aaron then opened his eyes all the way, and suddenly smiled. "Oh! I must have fallen asleep."  
  
"Yes, you nearly blasted my ears open with that shriek!" He laughed.  
  
"Are you okay?" Inquired a worried Ryan. Aaron nodded, and when he recalled his nightmare, he only told them that he dreamt he fell off the horse.  
  
"You nearly did!" Ryan spoke. "Were it not for me-"  
  
"You would've been asleep for a much longer time!" Darren interrupted, and then laughed again. Trying to settle into the cheery mood of his companions, Aaron smiled and produced a fake chuckle. But inside he was still uncomfortable, and when he closed his eyes, all he saw was the face; the awful face of the dark, mysterious traveler who had stood on the dirt path as though he had lost his way. It was the cold, white face of the dead, the dead who have been in that state for a very long time, so that all of their flesh and blood have rotten away; the white face, of Death.  
  
-----  
  
There was light at the end of the tunnel of trees, and the sun shone brightly on all their faces. The fear was starting to overcome Aaron, and he nearly grabbed the reigns from Darren and turned the horse around, but before he could do anything, they cleared the forest and could see, for the first time, Mount Sirus in its entirety. It was completely black as if the rays of sunlight bounced off its surface, or merely skipped over it.  
  
And then, suddenly, Darren and Ryan watched as their friend's eyes opened wide and he gasped loudly. Aaron heard a voice, and it was identical to the voice in the fields, but this time it was stronger. And again, it spoke only a word: Seer.  
  
"Did you hear that?" He said to his companions with an anxious, curious eye.  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
Aaron was dumbfounded. 'Could they not have heard it?' He asked himself.  
  
"What happened?" Questioned a concerned Ryan.  
  
Aaron wanted to tell them, but he wasn't sure that it had really happened. Had he slipped into another dream? Was the voice only inside his weary mind? Was the encounter in the fields a dream, as well? 'They must have been,' he thought to himself. 'Because I was the only to hear it! But maybe,' it occurred to him suddenly. 'What if they were all real?! The voice, and the dark traveler. Real! But only in my mind.' He was utterly confused, and his head began to hurt. 'Oh, what are they?' He asked himself in angst.  
  
"Aaron, are you all right?" Ryan asked. "We're almost there!" He added.  
  
'Oh, no!' It suddenly came to Aaron. 'They are warnings! We are riding straight into peril!'  
  
"I think we should go back." He said aloud.  
  
"Go back?" Said Darren. "But the mountain is so near!" He exclaimed.  
  
"And that is exactly why we must turn back before it is too late."  
  
"Too late for what?" Inquired Ryan.  
  
Aaron suddenly realized that the argument he was about to put forward was the very same he had used and failed with before in the tavern. His heart sank, fear spread and diffused through his body. He choked on his words, and nothing came out of his mouth except, to his chagrin, "I'm sorry." So they went on, through the prairie, without another word from Aaron.  
  
Finally, they came to the piedmont. They dismounted the horse and tied the reigns to a nearby shrubbery, and then turned to face the mountain; it had a dark, jagged surface, and it towered over them, tall and mighty.  
  
Darren's confidence did not wither, but Aaron and Ryan expected what had been told and recorded by the elders; a sudden, intense, feeling of terror. But it never came. Instead, while they contemplated how to elevate themselves to the only entrance to the cavern at the top of the mountain, where the fires had been seen spewing out, a dusty, gray staircase emerged from the black, and it rose to the very top of the mountain.  
  
Darren turned and smiled at Aaron and Ryan. "Look! We're not the first to have come this far!" But that didn't satisfy Aaron, for he saw that the staircase was very old and the corners were worn down. There were no footprints or scuffmarks of any kind to suggest any recent visitor. The bricks had to have been lain thousands of years ago, when the world was young and safe, and dragons were unheard of.  
  
But again, Aaron kept quiet, and Darren and Ryan started up the stairs. Aaron hesitantly followed. The climb to the top took much time, and Darren's excitement grew along with their distance from the ground by which they came. Aaron and Ryan moved more cautiously, up to the very top of Mount Sirus.  
  
-----  
  
At the last stair, Darren turned and looked over Aaron and Ryan. "Look!" He said. They turned and realized that they were at the highest point in all of the lands. Aaron could see the Bella Crescent, and beyond it Mount Pire. They could see as far off as Sarod, for the sky was clear and blue. The view was a wondrous collage of color unlike any they had ever seen. But ironically, if they turned their eyes again, and looked down at the ground underneath their feet, they would see the darkest, coldest, blackest piece of land in all of the vast territories that lay before their eyes.  
  
Balls of red and blue flame burst from the opening at the top, called the eye of the mountain. The burst nearly sent all three of them tumbling down the side of it, but they regained their footing quickly, and climbed the top stair. Ahead of them was a straight path not gray like the staircase, but jet black. The path went uphill until it came to a ledge, and beyond it is where they had seen the burst of fire. They slowly made their way to the ledge. Darren felt courageous as another ball of flame rose to the sky and vanished, leaving a signature of smoke. But Ryan and Aaron were overcome with terror.  
  
At last, they came to the edge and could hear the fiery activity below.  
  
"I'm beginning to agree with Aaron." Cried Ryan. "We should go back. Where there is so much fire and darkness, there must also be dragons!"  
  
Darren spoke in irritation. "And what do you know of dragons, Ryan! Have you ever seen one?" Ryan made no response. "We did not come all this way just to turn back at the last moment!"  
  
Then Darren nodded and smiled for the last time, and turned to peak over the ledge.  
  
It took only an instant. Darren hadn't even the time to scream, for he was gone, gone, over the ledge, deep into the fiery abyss. There was an awful silence, and only the crackling of the fire could be heard.  
  
"No!" Breaking the silence, Aaron violently shrieked. "Darren!" And Ryan, who was on his knees, reached for the ledge, and with his other hand he covered his mouth.  
  
Suddenly, for only a moment, the mountain quaked and became very unstable. The tremor resonated from the base of the mountain into the ground, and it could scarcely be noticed, but when the mountain shook and then settled again, it had grown wider at the base, extending the reaches and depths of the cavern.  
  
A moment later, Aaron and Ryan heard Darren's voice. It was a loud, horrible, painful, scream that pierced through them as a dagger to the heart.  
  
"Darren!" Aaron screamed. Desperately, he worked up the courage to crawl to the ledge, and peak over.  
  
"No, Aaron! Stop!" Ryan cried out. But it was too late. Aaron was looking down, leaning over the edge, staring into the fiery abyss.  
  
Strange it seemed to Aaron that the fires did not illuminate the pit or emit rays of light; rather they burned cold and dark. Where there wasn't fire, there was blackness.  
  
Aaron's eyes were surveying the movement of the fires, when bursting from the darkness again, the voice of Darren screamed in agony. Aaron spotted the source; it was the only object radiating light; a glowing, white sphere lying in the fire. And as the flame consumed it, it slowly grew dimmer and dimmer, until it was no more, and the voice of Darren was silenced with it. Fire was the only sound. Fear was all encompassing.  
  
Another moment passed, and slowly, in dreadful silence, a shadow began to creep over the fire, quenching it, or blocking it; Aaron could not tell. It was like a black flame, eclipsing the fire. He looked closer, and was startled, for from within the shadow, emerged two eyes, flaming red. He was too frightened to run, and too shocked to scream. The eyes entranced him, as he could tell they were fixed on him; terrible eyes of red and gold flame. They burned and pierced through Aaron, who remained motionless as stone in awe and terror.  
  
He was face to face with a terrible shadow. 


	6. Part 1: Chapters 9, 10, and 11

Aaron was hanging from the ledge, caught in a battle of strength. Ryan had a tight grasp on Aaron's arms, but the shadow enveloped his entire lower body. Ryan pulled with all of the strength he had, and he was weeping in pain. After a few moments, he could stand no more, and he used his last bit of strength in one firm tug, but the shadow was relentless. Under the terrible strain, Ryan's muscles from the shoulders to the fingertips gave out, and viciously tore. He screamed hoarsely, and Aaron slipped away. Ryan was beside himself, numbing him from the pain in his arms and mind. Aaron let out a terrible shrill, and disappeared into the darkness.  
  
"No!" Cried Ryan. "Aaron!" He lay there by the ledge for what seemed like hours, crying into his hands.  
  
A few minutes passed, and he heard another ball of light being cast into the fire below, followed by a deafening howl. Aaron's scream penetrated Ryan as deeply as Darren's had. He mourned and prayed there for Aaron, as his light was diminishing in the fiery abyss. When the ball of light was consumed, there was silence, except for the crisp crackling of the fire.  
  
Then, a great dagger of flame rose hundreds of feet over the eye of the mountain, so that for a moment, Mount Sirus was a torch raised over the land. When reason returned to Ryan, he fled. He rose up off the ground, and raced down to the stairway. When he came to it, he ran as fast as he could down the stairs, skipping three steps a stride, nearly stumbling a number of times. When he reached the base of the mountain, he looked toward the shrubbery, but found no horse. It had escaped and run off, and Ryan was left with only his feet.  
  
He ran past the prairie muttering to himself reassuringly, "No! This is a dream. It is all a dream." Then he shrieked suddenly, and fell to the ground, crying intensely into his hands.  
  
But he quickly came to feel that he was not yet out of peril. Fear returned and overcame him, and wiping away his tears, he forced himself back onto his feet. He continued running through the Isil Forest, which was much darker than before, for the sun now hung low and was preparing to set. He did not stop running until he reached the end of the forest, where he stopped to rest. He hadn't looked back once during his flee.  
  
As he lay under an oak tree, he made a decision. After resting, he would go to the Bella Crescent to inform Aaron's father of his demise, and then he would return home to his parents. He would go to Darren's home as well, but his parents died from plague long ago, and he had lived alone in his house in Anchorage.  
  
Ryan let his mind rest, and in the warmth of the setting sun and the green of the grass, he felt safe and happy; happy to be alive.  
  
-----  
  
Ryan woke at nightfall, and he felt ready to face the father of Aaron. As he came over the bridge to the Bella Crescent, he thought about the exact words he would use. He reached the farm, and found a path of dirt that led him to the doorstep of the main house. There was a candle lit in the living room, and the shadows it projected through the window and on the porch, sent a chill down Ryan's spine. He loathed what he was about to do, and he dreaded the inevitable reaction from Aaron's father. He took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. Pyaren's footsteps crept closer to the door, and a large silhouette shone through.  
  
Pyaren opened the door, and Ryan was on his knees, his clothing mere rags; dirty and torn. When Pyaren saw the anxiety in Ryan's eyes, he knew that something had happened to his son.  
  
"Forgive me, father of Aaron. Your son is lost."  
  
-----  
  
Ryan stayed with Pyaren in the main house and mourned with him for two weeks, far longer than he had originally intended to stay. Of course, he did not forget about his parents in Oakton, and he sent them a letter explaining the events that took place, and that he would be staying with Pyaren for the time being. He felt sorry for the old man who, now alone, could not maintain his farm and would lose his business.  
  
"I'm finished." He told Ryan the afternoon following his son's death. "I have no one to help me in the fields, and without my business I'll have to move into the village, and work in an inn."  
  
Ryan looked sympathetically, but not condescendingly, into the Pyaren's eyes. "I can stay here with you for a bit, if you need any help!"  
  
Pyaren smiled at the young, strong hearted, man. "That is most gracious of you, but- I'm afraid- I shouldn't keep you from your parents."  
  
"It is no trouble! I have been searching for work for a long time, and they would be overjoyed if I could work for you!" Said Ryan, who was at the edge of laughter.  
  
"We shall see."  
  
"I at least will stay with you for a short while!" Pleaded Ryan. "Until you find someone to help you permanently in the fields."  
  
Pyaren laughed. "You are kind! Why should I stop you? I would enjoy your company! But," he said softly. "The next two weeks, I shall not work. I shall only mourn for my son."  
  
"I will mourn with you. He was my closest friend."  
  
And so it came to be that Ryan stayed with Pyaren, and after the mourning period ended, Pyaren took him out to the fields and taught him how he could help run the farm. Ryan had been given the job permanently, for, as he said, his parents were overjoyed that he could work for Pyaren, and they sent him word that he should stay and learn to work in the fields. Ryan was eager to learn, and he listened carefully and attentively to Pyaren's instructions, and thus he earned the job and filled the void left by Aaron.  
  
----- 


	7. Part 1: Chapters 12 and 13

One evening, two weeks after the mourning period had ended, Pyaren summoned Ryan out to the fields. There, hunkered in the shadows of the tall grass, Pyaren finally had the heart to ask Ryan that he tell him the tale of the nightmarish journey.  
  
"Are you sure you want to hear it?" Asked Ryan worriedly.  
  
"I must."  
  
Ryan nodded, and then began explaining the dark adventure from beginning to end. He went into great detail, and Pyaren listened carefully and attentively. As Ryan spoke, Pyaren's eyes grew serious, and then gave a look of un-withering rage. His vengeance and his malice were teeming out of his eyes. Ryan saw a side of Pyaren he hadn't before; a cold, merciless, dark shadow. "You are not the first to speak of such a creature." He said suddenly in a deep, powerful voice.  
  
"What?" Ryan was alarmed, and his eyes opened wide.  
  
Pyaren cleared his throat, and began to speak like a prophet of the ancient Isilian scrolls. "Over a thousand years ago, the last of the Wizards lived in Isilius. They were the wisest, and most highly regarded in all of the land, for they had in their possession a relic with an extraordinary power. It was a glass sphere that could read the future and project it as an image for all who looked upon it." Ryan stared at Pyaren in disbelief. "The sphere chose when and for how long it would read, and the Wizards referred to these readings as glimpses."  
  
"That cannot be possible!" Ryan finally broke out.  
  
"Why can it not?" Answered Pyaren calmly.  
  
"Because," Ryan spoke in a troubled voice. "That kind of power is beyond this Earth!"  
  
"You mean it is beyond men." Ryan looked at Pyaren, perplexed. "Ryan, the are many powerful forces in this world beyond human beings. Just as we cannot fly!"  
  
"But that is different!"  
  
"Only in your mind! We cannot move objects without touching them, though a Wizard can! Neither can we climb the wall of Sarod as an insect! Would you tell me now that something greater isn't possible?" When Ryan didn't respond, and only sat in thought, Pyaren continued. "The sphere projected images, glimpses, of future events, and on papyrus, the Wizards recorded all they saw as if it had already happened, and intended to bind these glimpses together as chronicles of the future. . .but as time passed, and the events recorded began to happen, they came to realize that the sphere did not read in the order of time.  
  
"Finally, having given up searching for a theme in the given order of the glimpses, they bound all of the recordings into six scrolls- collectively called the Eretuf- which grew thicker as the sphere continued to read. The people of Isilius grew frightened as they knew- not when the events would occur- only that they would occur. And, on an evening like tonight, Isilius was attacked by the dragons of Mount Sirus."  
  
'So there are dragons in Mount Sirus!' Ryan thought to himself. 'Or at least there were. We did not encounter any, could they still be there?'  
  
"The attack had been spoken of in the Eretuf, but neither the men nor the Wizards were prepared, for there was no knowing when it would come. The fire-spitting drakes outnumbered and overpowered the Wizards, who were mostly sleeping at the time and hadn't the power to stop the attack."  
  
"I don't understand why you're telling me this."  
  
"All of the Wizards were slain," Pyaren continued as if he did not hear Ryan. "And the city was laid to waste, flattened and decimated by the fire and force of the dragons. And then the dragons found the sphere, which was hidden in a secret temple in the heart of the city, and brought it back with them to Mount Sirus. There, they destroyed it, for it was the largest concentration of natural light in all of the land." Ryan suddenly gave Pyaren a strange look of puzzlement. "The goodness of the heart and the soul," Pyaren explained, "the Wizards called 'natural light'. The dragons sought to rid the land of it, and usher an era of darkness."  
  
It seemed to Ryan that Pyaren had told this story many times before, perhaps to a large audience of family and friends, for it came out a long, well-prepared speech.  
  
"How do you know all this? And why are you telling me this?" He asked.  
  
"The men who escaped found refuge in Anchorage, and there they put in writing the history of Isilius. The scrolls are still there today; I have seen them. But the scrolls of the Eretuf, they were left behind in a cavern in the Isil Mountains, and to the best of anyone's knowledge, they remain there to this day. Now, Ryan," Pyaren said softly. "It may interest you to know that the most famous glimpse in the scrolls speaks of a shadow, in Mount Sirus, that desires only the destruction of all natural light. Somehow, it would draw power from this." He paused for only a moment and let Ryan straighten his thoughts. Then, he whispered slowly and coldly. "This shadow is real, Ryan! You have described it to me, and it is the reason why all who gaze toward the dark mountain tremble for a brief moment. It is the presence."  
  
"But what is it?" Ryan whispered.  
  
"I do not know." Answered Pyaren weakly. "I know only that its sole motivation is the destruction of natural light."  
  
"And there is an abundance of natural light in humans?" Ryan uttered slowly.  
  
"Yes." Hissed Pyaren, as he realized that Ryan was beginning to understand. "Natural light is abundant in all benevolent beings."  
  
"And that is why it took Darren and Aaron." Ryan spoke in awe. Pyaren's eyes grew even narrower and darker than before. "Promise me this, Ryan." He said, turning toward Ilrom. "When the time comes, you will help me avenge my son."  
  
"I swear it!"  
  
-----  
  
Over the next three and a half years, rumors spread throughout the land, most of which were false. In Anchorage, it was commonly told that Ryan threw his two friends into the fires out of some form of jealousy. In Oakton, they would say that Aaron and Darren ran away from their homes, but they didn't want their families to search after them, so they faked death. There were many other such stories spreading around, and few believed the one given by Ryan. Even his parents bought into the rumors, and were infuriated with him. They expressed their strongest resentment in a letter to Ryan, which he could not believe, even as he recognized the signature and the writing style, was written by his parents.  
  
Ryan was older now, and he had quickly learned to work in the fields of Pyaren's farm. Pyaren treated him like a son, and let him stay with him in the main house, in the guestroom adjacent to Aaron's. The two had become very close, nearly as close as had been Pyaren and Aaron.  
  
Life in these times was based on routines, and it was quiet and uneventful. The townsmen of Sarod, the villagers of Anchorage, and the merchants of Oakton went about their usual business. They worked, they played, they partied, and they gossiped. With no voice of dissent, Ryan gained the reputation of a fallacious, deceitful, liar. This was his label, but he was hardly seen, for he clung to the northern fields of the Bella Crescent. He only appeared in Oakton, and only to trade with the merchants, though, on occasion, he would stop at his old home in Anchorage along the way, and visit his parents.  
  
The trips were long from the Bella Crescent, and he returned late at night, not arriving back at the farm until dawn. Some claimed to see him, on horse, galloping through the black night by the trails of the Isil Mountains and of the Oakwood Forest, with only the light of the guiding moon. A rumor was spread that Ryan was hiding his friends' scorched bodies under the soil of the forest, concealing his terrible deed.  
  
Indeed, Ryan was shunned by the people, but the future had already been foretold, and fate was bound with irony.  
  
----- End of Part 1 ----- 


	8. Part 2: Chapter 1

Part II  
  
The New Lord  
  
Autumn wore on, and with the changing of the seasons a new presence in the land was felt. Something was stirring in the fires of Mount Sirus, for over the howling winds of the Isil Forest and the rustling of the fallen leaves, a broken voice was heard, ranting and raving. It was deep, ferocious, and, like the fires of the mountain, it was constant. The people of the land stood outside their homes at night, and listened to the unclear chatter. Frightened and confused, they could not make anything out of its long tirade. This behavior quickly became part of everyday life, a routine, such as eating or sleeping. It continued for countless weeks, until one night, when Ryan was working in the fields of the Bella Crescent.  
  
He was harvesting the crops, and had gathered in his arms a large bundle of corn. Suddenly, the raving voice cried out, and the corn dropped to the ground as Ryan fell onto his back. It was an angry, deafening cry, and when it passed, Ryan had to wait a moment for his hearing to return. He rose to his feet, and peaked at the tip of Mount Sirus. When his sudden discomfort passed, he could see the fires of the mountain blazing from the caverns as lava pours from of a volcano. There came a soft rumble resonating throughout the land, and the territories surrounding Ilrom quaked for a few moments. When the tremors ceased, a black cloud, like that of smoke, started out of the tip of the mountain, partially eclipsing the golden flames. Ryan was dazed, and as he surveyed the movement of the cloud, he was overcome, and wrought with fear.  
  
The cloud grew larger as if it were the smoke of a raging fire, blocking out all of the light in the sky, and blackening the night. It enveloped the sky, and grew with each passing moment. Ryan merely stood and watched, motionless, and the fear in him was spreading to his fingertips, numbing his nerves.  
  
He sensed this was no ordinary cloud, and when it drew closer, from within it, Ryan saw in his already overwhelming astonishment, small bursts of fire, puffing through as human breath on a chilly morning. Hundreds of these small explosions engulfed the black cloud, which filled the sky.  
  
The cloud drew closer, and suddenly Ryan began to hear a rumbling crescendo of noise. Terrible cries, like that of a thousand hawks. They were awful, terrifying, screams, waking everyone from Mount Pire to Oakton.  
  
Ryan suddenly held his breath, for he had caught sight of a figure, in the cloud, swooping and gliding like a bird.  
  
'What is that?' He asked himself. 'No! Oh, no! Dragons! In mass! Hundreds!' Ryan, suddenly, was too frightened to think, instinct took hold of him, and he raced through the fields toward the main house. "Dragons!" He shrieked, and when he emerged out of the fields in front of the house, Pyaren burst out the door.  
  
"Dragons!" Ryan shrieked again. The screams were now so close, they were deafening.  
  
"I know! We must get out of here!" Yelled Pyaren as he raced towards Ryan. "We shall head that way." Pyaren was pointing to the southeast. "We must get to Isilius, for it is abandoned, and there should be no dragons there."  
  
"What if we don't make it before the dragons cross our path, here?"  
  
Pyaren opened his robe and around his belt, Ryan could see two sheaths, and protruding from each was a long hilt, bound in leather. He took hold of one and pulled it out, unveiling a long, glistening blade, forged from smooth, clean silver. He handed the sword to Ryan. "Take this," he said. "And never remove your hand from it, for once it's lost, you'll have to wield whatever you can find on the earth."  
  
Ryan had held a sword only once before, but that had been years ago, and he knew not how to wield it properly. He pointed it straight in front of him as he and Pyaren crept through the eastern fields of the Bella Crescent, to the bridge over the Tulsa River.  
  
The screams were suddenly so near that Pyaren grabbed Ryan by the arm and sharply whispered, "Freeze!" They did so, hoping not to give away their location.  
  
The crying came from above, but they could not yet see its source. Until, happening so fast it startled Ryan, a swarm of fifteen dragons, flew straight over them, and passed towards the farmhouses. Fire blew out of their nostrils, and with every cry, a ball of flame shot out of their mouths. Ryan had a clear glance of one when it passed over him. It was ten feet in length, and from the tip of one wing to the other, it was a span of twenty feet. It had jet-black skin, with little of the emerald green spoken about in the ancient scrolls. It wore a dark gray chest with black scales camouflaged into its skin, and a snarl capable of instilling fright into an entire army of men. When they passed, Ryan and Pyaren waited for few more moments, and when it appeared no more were coming, they continued on.  
  
Finally, they came to the clearing, and cautiously crossed the bridge, over the ever-flowing Tulsa River. When they reached the highest point of the bridge, Pyaren turned back and pointed to their home at the sound of the dragons' screaming. Ryan turned, and what he saw forced him to cover his mouth to keep from crying out. They both stared for several minutes, for their farm and their home were ablaze. The flames rose to the sky, and the wood of the houses was incinerated, leaving a trail of black smoke.  
  
Suddenly, they heard another cry. It came from the East, and was drawing nearer. Without hesitation, they ran into the shadows of the Isil Forest to hide. Minutes later, a second group of dragons flew overhead; southwest, in the direction of Sarod.  
  
"Keep moving," Ordered Pyaren. "They have not come for us."  
  
As they moved south through the forest, Ryan began to wonder how Pyaren seemed so well prepared for this day, for while Ryan was hysterically screaming "dragons", Pyaren had already armed himself and knew exactly where they must go to be safe. So much knowledge he possessed, though he lived on a farm his whole life; with only his father up to his death, and his wife and son.  
  
They crawled under the branches in the shadows of the fire-lit night, and hopped over tree stumps, landing on their toes to buffer the sound. When they came to the edge of the forest, Pyaren studied their surroundings, making sure there was no danger.  
  
"There is Isilius!" Whispered Pyaren. "Or rather, there it was." He was pointing to the ruins of the old city, which now was only a temple, and a few wrecked houses in a great pasture. "It had once been a thriving city with tall, stone towers," he said smiling with awe, "and hard copper gates. The council of Wizards had ruled over it, but that was ages ago, and it has long since been forgotten." His eyes then narrowed, and he scowled. "Now it is nothing." He said. "But a scorched, barren wasteland." Then he put aside his rage. "We must cross it to get to the mountains, and we will be in the open for a few minutes, so be cautious."  
  
Ryan was confused. "Why do we head for the mountains?"  
  
"The cavern I told you about, where the Eretuf lies, it is in those mountains. There we can delve back into the ancient scrolls and find the dark shadow of Mount Sirus. Then, we may read a great deal about it, and hopefully learn how to bring it to its destruction. But more importantly right now, it is there we may find shelter, and hide from the dragons." Ryan nodded, and he was again dumbfounded by Pyaren's leadership.  
  
They began half-running through the short grass, making sure as not to make too much noise. They were making their way across quite speedily, until suddenly- a great, golden, flaming fireball struck the ground, narrowly missing Ryan.  
  
"Watch out!" Screamed Pyaren.  
  
Ryan dropped to the ground and rolled, and the claw sunk deep into the earth, just missing flesh. But the silhouette now hung over Ryan, and breathed into his face. It bent over to him so Ryan saw into its eyes, but was suddenly struck on the side of the head by a large stone. Its head turned to face the challenger. Pyaren appeared the darkest Ryan had ever seen him; so dark, he looked a worthy opponent to the dragon. His eyes were hidden in shadow, leaving to Ryan's imagination the pain and vengeance that occupied them; the rage that could not be seen, but only heard in his powerful voice.  
  
"Desist!" Beamed Pyaren in a demanding tone. "Go back to the black abyss from which you came!"  
  
Terrified, Ryan screamed, and in one swift motion, he drew up his sword and slashed the dragon across the chest. It rocked back, the crimson blood spewing out of the wound, and squealed to the sky. But only a moment later, it lunged forward, back into Ryan's face, and it snapped at him. But as it opened its mouth to tear Ryan in half, it instead ate a long silver blade sent through the air by the hand of Pyaren. And the creature was silenced, collapsing next to Ryan.  
  
Repulsed, Ryan scurried away from the body. Pyaren went over to the dragon, took back his weapon from its terrible throat, and wiped the blood off, onto his robe. He reached for Ryan with an outstretched hand. "Come. We are still in the open, and where one goes, more will follow. We must make it to the mountains." Dazed, Ryan staggered forward with his sword dangling from his fingers, and stared at the ground as it passed under his feet.  
  
Suddenly, they heard the voice again; the ferocious, raving, tyrant. It came still from Mount Sirus, but this time it was closer, and unbroken. They heard its commands clearly, but still could not understand a word it spoke, for it was some other language. Confused and disappointed, they were forced to ignore it.  
  
Finally, they came to the foot of the Isil Mountains.  
  
----- 


End file.
